


Bad Pirate Fic

by EvilRobotCat



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Pirates, Tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilRobotCat/pseuds/EvilRobotCat
Summary: (old fic reposting)  One afternoon, Reeve falls asleep while reading...  um...  literature.  He begins to dream of a very different life on the high seas filled with sexy swashbuckling pirates, beautiful dangerous mermen, and no plot in sight.  Readers, don your silly-looking hats and surrender your good taste in reading.  This is a bad. pirate. fic.
Relationships: Angeal Hewley/Genesis Rhapsodos, Lazard Deusericus/Sephiroth, Reeve Tuesti/Vincent Valentine, Rufus Shinra/The Turks
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Literature

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, okay, okaaaaaay. I'll bring... at least this one back. For now. Maaaaybe some of the others. Someday. BUT YOU KNOW THE DRILL. If you like it, save it. 
> 
> Can't believe I'm doing this.
> 
> HERE WE GO.

"Damn that Reno, where did he put it?!" Elena hissed, digging through a stack of papers marked CONFIDENTIAL. "I'm going to murder him... I'm going to cut his ears off... I'm going to-"

"Elena? What brings you to my office?"

"Director Tuesti!" Elena yelped, spinning around so quickly she sent the stack of papers flying. She resembled a burglar being caught red-handed, with her eyes wide and her back pressed against Reeve's desk. If she was here on business, she very well might be a burglar.

"It's commissioner now," Reeve reminded her with a polite, if strained smile. "Is there something I can help you, er, find?"

"Nothing at all!" Elena gasped. "I... I was just looking for. Um. For Reno! We're due back at HQ. I mean at our office! Th-this is HQ. Y-yours, I mean. Your-"

"I don't think he'd fit in my desk," Reeve interrupted mercifully. "Why don't you check the cafeteria? It's almost lunch time."

"Great idea, sir! W-well then." Elena gave Reeve's office one more sweep with her eyes, unsatisfied, but unwilling to ask for help. 

Reeve scratched his head as she left, then looked at all the papers she'd tossed into the air. With a resigned sigh, he began to pick them up. A few had landed behind his chair. As he reached to grab them, his hand settled onto a block of some sort. He pulled the block into the light and saw that it was a book. A paperback, the cheap sort that were often sold at the front of grocery stores. Was this what Elena had been looking for? Reeve raised his eyebrows at the cover.

A muscular, dark-haired man was draped over the railing of a wooden ship, staring dreamily at- well, at Reeve, currently. He seemed to have misplaced his shirt. The man's smooth, shiny chest bore a tattoo of a jolly roger. If the visual wasn't a strong enough indication of the book's contents, the title was stamped above the man in gold letters: PIRATE CAPTAIN HARVEY'S VIRGIN MISTRESS.

Reeve chuckled quietly. He should call Elena, but he couldn't see himself handing it back to her with a straight face. So this was the kind of book she was interested in. Many people were, he supposed. A sticker graced the corner of the cover, proudly claiming, "TOP SELLER FOR 3 MONTHS!" and "WINNER OF SABOTEN SWEETHEART'S LITERATURE AWARD!" 

Literature. Sure it was.

Reno must have hidden this in Reeve's office as a prank. Whether he meant it against Elena or Reeve was a mystery. Reeve sank into his chair and opened the book. For curiosity's sake.

_"How dare you attack my ship! Who are you?!" I raged at the dashing captain. I brushed a lock of my shimmering raven hair away from my emerald green orbs, which shone like sapphires. Just in case he couldn't speak Midgardian, I repeated myself in Wutaian, which I learned to speak fluently when I was a child._

_"I am Captain Harvey," he boasted. "And every tale you've heard about me is true."_

_Even I, an innocent maiden, could see that he was sexy. I heaved a breath-  
_

Reeve raised his eyebrows again. Well, what could one expect with a cover like this? He should do Elena and himself a favor and toss it into the trash. And yet... how _would_ the admiral's virgin fiancee escape the pirates? Reeve opened the book again. 

When the lunch hour ended, Reeve was halfway through chapter six. The maiden fiancee had fallen in love with the handsome Captain Harvey, and had fled with him from the cruel and unattractive Admiral Palazzo. She'd become a master of swordplay, though it wasn't explained how or when, and was now fighting a rival pirate crew (with an equally handsome captain) for Captain Harvey's life.

Reeve stifled a yawn. He shouldn't have gone to bed so late last night. There was only half an hour until his phone conference with the head of the Rocket Town division. Not enough time for a proper catnap. He's just have to power through his drowsiness. Reeve shifted in his chair and returned to the implausible and incredibly erotic adventures of the pirate captain's 'virgin' mistress. His eyelids became difficult to hold up, and the words blurred. 

In no time at all, Reeve was asleep in his chair...


	2. The Ship is Going Down!

...until the sea gave his ship a mighty toss that rolled him right out of it. Reeve pitched forward with a cry of alarm, then sat back and rubbed the knee that had bumped into the cabin's tiny stove. It served him right for falling asleep without tying himself down first. Nothing stayed put on a ship.

Judging by the light shining through the portholes, Reeve estimated the hour to be noon. A fine time to inspect his little project and see to it that everything was in order. Nobody else would if he didn't. He was the sole captain, crew, and passenger.

The Cait Sith was what other sailors called a clockwork shipwreck waiting to happen. Reeve preferred to think of it as a masterpiece of engineering. It looked like any other ship, if a bit small, but from the nose of its cat-shaped figurehead to the tip of its rudder, it was fully equipped with machinery of Reeve's own design. Chains and pulleys, wood and metal gears, and glass tubes encasing peculiar devices were grafted to every part of the ship. They whirred, clanked, and drummed without stop. Navigation, sails, even maintenance was handled by the Cait Sith's machinery. With a set course, the thing could make an unmanned voyage across the sea and back. There was no other ship like it on the sea - and likely never would be again.

Reeve's shipbuilding business had fallen on hard times, and he'd used the last of his money to bring his revolutionary designs to life. No one was willing to crew the prototype, so Reeve had taken the wheel himself, and begun his life anew as the ship's captain. Unfortunately, no one was brave enough to hire his ship for trade or ferry. Something about "unnatural" and "demon-possessed" and "madman". All nonsense, of course, but without customers, Reeve's shipping business, well, had no business. More often than not, Reeve was forced to fill the small cargo with barrels of sea water just to weight the thing down from port to port.

His only regular client was Captain Shinra, a Midgar-born privateer whose band was said to rival Midgar's own navy in size and power. Reeve made regular stops at the captain's world-famous 'secret' hideaway in the Northern Sea, where his job was to inspect and repair Shinra vessels. It was not the life he had envisioned for himself, and he longed for the day when he could finally declare himself no longer an agent of pirates.

It wasn't that Reeve disliked pirates. They held a certain romantic appeal, he would readily admit. He didn't worry so much about the morality of the field, either. The rulers of any nation had only to sign a piece of paper, and a pirate was suddenly a privateer and trusted ally. Captain Shinra had three copies for each country he'd visited, and attacked ships from all of them. No, what bothered Reeve was-

"Ahoy! Surrender your ship or die, pitiful merchant!"

"No! Surrender to us or die!"

"Not today," Reeve groaned.

Captain Shinra's idiot sons (not that Reeve would call them that to their faces) hated one another passionately. They were in a constant battle to steal each other's prey or sink it trying. Their rivalry was so intense, they even attacked ships flying their father's flag, which Reeve's happened to be doing right now.

Reeve stomped up the steps leading to his deck, his final display of aggression before presenting himself meekly before the two ships, one on either side of the Cait Sith. He resented the repairs he'd made to their vessels. 

Lazard's ship was dark, its body made of teak, with blue and white striped sails. It was a powerhouse in battle, loaded to the gills with cannons and a fearsome crew so large, they had to be managed by two first mates. One was the size of an ox, and ten times as strong. The other wore all red, to hide the blood of his enemies. 

Lazard had pursued a career in Junon's military for a while, before half his fleet defected and he returned to his father's island in shame. No one knew if his intention was honest, or if he'd meant to turn his soldiers to piracy; but to this day he wore the deep blue frock coat that had been his uniform.

Rufus' ship was painted white and trimmed in gold, with white sails. While his ship was more pretty than practical, Rufus' true weapons were his hand-selected crew, collectively known as the Turks. They hailed from all corners of the map, and were loyal only to Rufus and each other.

Rufus wore a waistcoat of pure white, with layers of black and white underneath. His appearance never changed, whether he sailed in cold northern waters or in the tropics. How he could bear it in the summer heat, no one could guess, but it contributed to the belief he had a heart of ice. No ship was too big, too gunned, or too poor for Rufus to attack. 

A sailor shook a rifle threateningly, and Reeve had no choice hut to raise his hands into the air.

"Rufus, Lazard, ahoy-"

"Stow it, merchant! the sailor interrupted. "Unless you want your guts strung up to feed the seagulls, yo!"

Reeve frowned. 

"Reno-"

"I said stow it!"

"Surrender!" came a shout from behind them. Reeve craned his neck to see one of Lazard's crew fumbling with a grappling hook. "Move on, Turk! This is our haul!"

"Kunsel, is it?" Reeve guessed. Kunsel always wore a bandanna so low, his face could barely be seen under it. It was intended as some sort of disguise, but it made him the easiest of his crewmates to recognize. 

Kunsel jumped in surprise.

"How did you know that?!"

"Send your captains out," Reeve pleaded. "I sail under Shinra's flag-"

"An obvious ruse!" Reno shot back.

"Well, okay," Kunsel shrugged. 

Reno shook a fist angrily.

"Hey! If anybody's gonna talk this weasel down, it's gonna be MY captain!"

Reeve quietly considered the possibility of chartering an escape before the bickering privateers noticed. Doubtful. If these two served as their ships' mouths, more dangerous people served as the eyes and hands. Reeve wasn't keen to feel one of those hands around his throat today. Still, he didn't like the position of his ship. The Cait Sith was small, and lodged between these two ships, it could easily be shattered, and Reeve with it, if the sea got rough.

The captains appeared, accompanied by their first mates. 

"What have we here-" Rufus began, only to be interrupted by Lazard.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Reeve, the lone merchant of the Catsy."

"That's Cait Sith," Reeve sighed under his breath. "Lazard, I repaired the mast of your ship just last week-"

"Who gave you permission to surrender to him?" Rufus demanded. "I set the terms here. First, send out your captain. Unarmed."

"I am the captain." Reeve lowered one of his raised hands to rub his forehead.

A grappling hook landed on his deck behind him, and then another before him. Reeve hurriedly picked one of them up and dropped it into the water.

"Both of your, be reasonable! You'll crush my ship!"

"Reno, cast that hook again!"

"On it, yo!"

"Genesis, tell the men below to ready the cannons! We'll take both of these fools in one go!"

"You'll blow us to the Promised Land!" Reeve gasped. The time for talk had passed. He ran to the wheel of his ship and manipulated a series of levers. The Cait Sith's sails unfurled and Reeve turned the wheel, hoping to catch the wind before the Shinra captains could destroy his pride and joy. The sea and sky had been eerily calm until a moment ago. Now a good, strong gust blew, strong enough to rustle Reeve's hair. Maybe his luck was changing. Or maybe a storm was coming. Either way, Reeve didn't want to be here any longer.

"Fire!"

The Cait Sith rocked heavily, pitching Reeve off balance.

"Cap'n, we got him!" Elena cried eagerly from her post.

"Course we did, he's an arm's length away from us," Reno scoffed. "Hey! You! Ready to surrender?"

The wind picked up again, but the Cait Sith only lurched in place, like a flounder on a hook. Reeve gave a loud, heavy sigh.

"I don't have any cargo, but you've struck the mechanism that operates the pumps."

"What's that mean?"

"It means I am sinking, now will your captains please stop bickering and send me a lifeboat?"

"Where's yours?" Reno demanded, uncrossing his arms and settling his hands to his hips.

Reeve gestured to Lazard's ship. "He just blew a hole in it."

Reno's mouth hung open, and for a moment Reeve dared to hope that the young man had come to his senses and recognized an ally of his captain in need. Instead he pointed to Reeve in wonder and said, "You can tell whose cannonball hit what part of your ship? As if you were inexplicably or perhaps spiritually bound to it but not because that would be magic and such ability would put you in a dangerous position if this was a totally different universe than ours, in which exploitation of magic is the law of the world?"

"Uh-"

"That's fuckin' wild!"

"Thank you?"

Meanwhile, Lazard's first mate Angeal handed him a spyglass and pointed to the darkening horizon. Lazard peered at it, then handed the spyglass back with a nod. 

"Plunder's yours, Rufus," he called over Reeve to the white ship. "A hurricane is blowing in."

"From the north? This side of the equator?" Rufus rolled his eyes. His first mate (and rumored favorite lover) Tseng drew near to him.

"He tells the truth, captain. There's something unnatural in those clouds. We'd best leave this quarry and move to fairer waters."

"Hmm, you may be right," Rufus muttered as the first drops of rain dampened his flawless white clothing. "Aweigh, men!"

"Get to the oars!" Lazard ordered his crew. "All the wind in the sky won't save a ship that relies on bed sheets for speed."

"Big talk," Rufus yelled at him. "Why didn't you ask Father for a galleon instead of a rowboat?"

"Gentlemen?" Reeve inquired anxiously. His ship was halfway submerged. The deck was still above water, but his cabin was surely full of water now. He would miss his book collection. Were they honestly departing without him?! Reeve's pleas grew louder and more urgent. "Gentlemen?! A lifeboat?! Please?!"

Long oars as thick as tree trunks radiated from Lazard's ship and slammed into the water. The force of it rocked the Cait Sith. On the other side, the Turks had severed the lines of rope they'd hooked into the Cait Sith, so its weight wouldn't drag them down as they fled.

"Best of luck, yo!" Reno apologized, offering Reeve a salute.

Soon the shipbuilder-turned-captain was alone on his sinking ship in the middle of the sea, with a hurricane fast approaching. Unnaturally fast, Reeve would have agreed with Tseng, if he were safe onboard the younger Shinra's deck. The Cait Sith began to list to one side, like a wounded seabird. Reeve didn't know if it was the rising wind or the deluge of water filling the hold that caused it. All he knew was that his time as a seafarer, indeed his time on the planet was limited to a span of mere minutes. He'd never learned how to swim. 

The sky above turned grey, and then black as the angry storm blotted out the sun. Reeve turned a nervous eye to the darkening water, where any number of sea monsters surely waited to drown and eat him. In that order, if he was lucky. He imagined he could see a dark mass drifting closer and closer toward his doomed ship. With shaky fingers, Reeve drew a match from his vest pocket and struck it, shielding the flame with a hand. He lit the lamps, hoping to draw comfort from their weak light. Where there had been a formless mass he would surely see a tangle of seaweed or some jetsam from the departed Shinra ships.

A pair of eyes reflected the light back to him, then vanished under the water's surface. Reeve gulped and contemplated the hurricane instead. It didn't help. 

All but the helm of the ship was submerged now, and he had to grip the wheel to support himself as it rocked. Black snake-like tentacles extended from the water and wrapped around the mast. Were those attached to the glowing eyes he'd seen? Reeve had the terrible feeling he would be eaten long before he had the chance to drown.

Lightning flashed and the entire sea was illuminated in a sickly green light. In the distance, far beyond the creature, there was another shadow on the water - much bigger.

"A ship!" Reeve gasped. "I'm saved!"

His sinking wreck was right in the path of the ship, which made its way toward him at an alarming speed. The nearer it drew to him, the more doubt grew in Reeve's stomach. 

It was massive, solid black, save for a gold figurehead carved into the visage of a many-horned scowling demon. Its crimson sails were tattered; no way could they be what gave this ship its speed. The flag, like the sails, was deep red - the color of pirates. Long before it pulled alongside him, now knee-deep in seawater, Reeve knew the name of the vessel before him. 

This was Chaos, the demon ship.

Few had seen the Chaos and lived, if one could call it living. It was said anyone who survived an encounter would be plagued by nightmares and hunted by the beasts of the sea until they drew their dying breath. Reeve had never believed the stories, so often told over the last round in the seediest bars when there were no more tales of unicorns or mermaids to be had. He didn't think he wouldn't get the chance to tell his drinking buddies back home they were right. His fate clearly lay in this ship or the deep sea below.

"Tiny merchant," an unearthly voice echoed from... somewhere. "Surrender all to me."

"I- I surrender!" Reeve cried out over the storm, frantically searching for the face that belonged to the voice. He was waist-deep now, and should long ago have been dragged down to his death by the mysterious creature. It seemed to have vanished when the Chaos appeared. Was the demon ship's reputation so strong it frightened sea monsters? There wasn't time to think about it. "Please - help!"

From high above, a length of rope flew down and landed a few yards from Reeve. He gave the wheel of his ship a final squeeze of farewell, then pitched himself into the choppy water to grab onto the rope. A knot had already been tied at the end. He stuck his foot in it and wrapped some of the rope around his waist, then gave it a tug. He was lifted out of the water just as the rudder of the Cait Sith went tail-up, and into the water forever. It was like watching a friend drown.

Now Reeve had his own troubles to face. He was soon to meet the crew, human or inhuman, of the most dangerous ship on the sea, which had no allies and left no trace but death.

The rope reached the deck and Reeve pulled himself over the railing to see... no one? The long line of rope was coiled neatly. The entire ship was empty. No crew stormed him on the deck with sabers drawn. No one manned the helm or looked down from the rigging. But someone had called to him. Someone had thrown him the rope. Reeve looked out to the sea, where the hurricane loomed in the distance, seemingly locked in place.

Was this truly a ghost ship in every sense of the word?

"I accept your surrender."

Reeve spun around with a gasp and almost fell back into the water.

A tall man leaned casually against the main mast. His clothing was all black; his shirt, casually buttoned only up to his stomach, hung open to reveal a chest as white as the moon. His smooth raven hair was tied in a crimson scarf that did little to keep it away from his eyes. Indeed, it covered half of his flawless face and one of his ruby red eyes. 

The mysterious man folded his arms over his chest (a crime of high treason, in Reeve's educated opinion) and Reeve saw that one arm was missing, or at least encased in a false one made of metal.

Reeve frowned to himself. Something about this was familiar... wasn't it? At any rate, it was hardly believable. No sailor in his right mind would wear that kind of clothing in a storm. It offered no protection from the elements, and furthermore, when had Reeve ever used words like "white as the moon" to describ-

"Your ship lies at the bottom of the ocean," the man announced, and his low voice gave Reeve shivers. "You possess nothing but your body. Is that what you offer?"

"Yes- I mean, n-" Reeve stammered. "Wh-who are you, sir?"

"I am Captain Valentine." The man gracefully slipped away from the mast and approached Reeve. "And every tale you've heard about me is true."

There it was again. That feeling of déjà vu. Had he _read_ this somewher-

"Now I ask of you, merchant. What have you to offer me in exchange for your life?"

Reeve drew a deep breath to steady himself. 

"My ship has sunk, and if sparing my life means returning me to its deck, I would prefer to remain your..."

"My what?" Captain Valentine was barely a foot away from Reeve. He reached out and rested his fingertips under Reeve's chin. "Prisoner? Guest? Blushing bride, perhaps?"

"I'm no maiden," Reeve grumbled, shaking off the feeling that he was supposed to say something else. "But I'm an excellent shipbuilder. In exchange for safe passage to the nearest port, I'm sure I'll make an adequate addition to your crew."

Captain Valentine's hand lowered, and he offered Reeve a slight, unreadable smile. 

"Chaos needs no crew."

"I see." Reeve's cheeks warmed. "B-blushing bride it is, then."

 _"I_ have no need of _that,"_ the captain said, and turned his back suddenly. "And I keep no prisoners. Take a lifeboat and go. You won't be pursued."

"What? We're in the middle of a storm at sea!" Reeve protested. "I'll be tossed to my death!"

"The water will still for you."

"I admire your optimism, but we're thousands of miles from any habitable land."

"That's your problem, Mr...?"

"Captain Reeve of the Cait Sith." Reeve frowned and looked away. "And everything they say about me is _not_ true."

"The mechanical ship of rumor," Vincent murmured thoughtfully. He turned to face Reeve and approached him again. "It's said you can repair every apparatus you touch. Is that also untrue?"

"I'm very good with my hands." Reeve's blush deepened as he realized the implications of his words. "Mechanical devices, that is. Ships, clocks, music boxes... One is not so different from another when you get to the heart of things."

Vincent sat on the railing and offered out his left arm, the one in the metal shell, to Reeve.

"What about something like this?"

Reeve took Vincent's hand into his and gently turned it this way and that, careful of the fact that he was still using it. Upon closer inspection, the hand was fully functional, and the metal was simply attached to it - or to the glove he wore over it. It was like no leather Reeve had ever touched before. It didn't have seams. But he wasn't a tailor, and fortunately the unusual fabric needed no repair. The metal creaked as Reeve folded the fingers together and turned the wrist.

"These joints are unusual," he observed. "This is a magic booster, isn't it? It's been well loved."

"Well worn," Vincent corrected. "It's a part of me and a part of this ship. We are bound together for eternity."

"Hm? Ah yes, demon ship, I forgot." Funny how unimportant little details like that seemed when sitting eyes-to-mouth with the beautiful man before him. Vincent's lips were thin, but delicate. What would it feel like to kiss them? Reeve cleared his throat and gave the hand another inspection.

"All it needs is some basic maintenance and a good oiling. I'd be happy to do it, if you'll change your mind about the lifeboat."

"You want to take your chances without?" Vincent inquired. Reeve choked, and Vincent amended, "It has been many years since I entertained company. Perhaps my jokes are old-fashioned. Will you remain on the ship?"

"I'll stay on, if you'll have me," Reeve said.

I was wrong about the Chaos needing no crew. I need _you,_ Reeve."

"We need each other," Reeve concluded.

Vincent's fingers wrapped over Reeve's with a sense of meaning. They weren't bargaining over safe passage to Midgar anymore. They never had been in the first place. 

"Before you repair this, I'll give you a tour of the ship," Vincent said, rising to his feet. Reeve followed his lead. Their hands remained clasped together. "We'll begin with the captain's quarters."

"That's the worst segue I've ever heard," Reeve muttered. Not that he was refusing, of course.

Several hours (and a few 'tours') later, Reeve let his head fall back against a pillow and stared up at the heavy drapes that hung over the frame of Vincent's bed. Crimson, of course. He grinned and closed his eyes.

"Falling asleep already?" Vincent chided beside him.

"I'm only human," Reeve laughed softly. "But _you're_ not. I've never seen anyone transform like that!"

"I told you the stories were true."

"I believe them now, but I didn't know he'd be just as handsome as you. The men at home call you a devil who rules above and below the sea."

"A lie, I assure you."

"You're not a devil?" Reeve smirked.

"That part is true, but my rule only covers the ocean's surface."

"Oh? Then what rules everything underneath? An angel?"

"Something like that."

Vincent's indulgent smile shifted ever so slightly, and he turned his eyes to the windows that looked out over the sea. Something concerned him, it was clear, but he didn't reveal what. Instead he fixed his attention on Reeve, and nibbled every part of his neck that wasn't already pink from earlier, until the matter was forgotten to both of them.

Far from the ship, a pair of eyes hovered just above the water's surface, framed by a liquid pool of silver hair. The water around the mysterious being seemed to boil with activity as he watched the warm light coming from the windows of the Chaos. A slick appendage rose to brush stray hair away from the creature's ethereal, human-like face. The ship's bell rang out mournfully, announcing the hour to its oblivious captain and his... company. With a final malicious glare, the creature retreated from the ship and swam out into the dark, open sea.


	3. Behold the Merman

Sephiroth's fury boiled the sea... or he wished it would, anyway. His father had promised him a big dinner and a ship full of cargo to appease the queen of the sea monsters, Jenova. Instead he'd attacked a floating mechanical toy with no crew or cargo at all. Jenova would not be pleased. And Sephiroth's meager dinner? Well, that was now sharing Captain Valentine's bed, giggling like a captain's daughter at her coming out party! Sephiroth had no idea how honest his father's intentions with the bearded sailor were - his loud promise to "cherish you until the moon falls from the sky" was the stuff of... well, of something ridiculous, Sephiroth was sure. 

On the other hand, Captain Valentine hadn't taken a lover since the death of Sephiroth's mother, the mermaid Lucrecia. Sephiroth had grown up believing his mother to be the most beautiful woman above or below the sea. Now that he'd had a good look at what his father was attracted to, Sephiroth's enchanting vision had been somewhat tainted. He would have to ask the mermaids if there was any record of his mother's appearance... after he'd filled his stomach, of course.

Dinner was never promised to the creatures of the sea, even an apex predator like Sephiroth. And now that he was mad, a simple meal like a shark or small whale wouldn't do. He wanted - no, he demanded human flesh! Sephiroth could smell a human from half a league away, but the sea was vast, full ships had cannons, and he'd grown spoiled relying on his father's ship to do the hunting. The Chaos was more than just a hunk of fearsome lumber, it was an entity of pure evil; evil so strong it had been known to consume Captain Valentine's body and use it as its own. Chaos, like Sephiroth had a taste for men. He claimed there was nothing so delectable as a human soul filled with horror. Sephiroth preferred his with a little salt and horseradish dressing, but to each their own.

The odds of finding a shipwrecked sailor on a makeshift raft, or even a dinghy full of unarmed passengers, were nonexistent. Sephiroth's stomach growled angrily and he drew a heavy breath, preparing himself to submerge. But what was that in the distance? The light of a single candle bobbed up and down on the surface of the water. Sephiroth was drawn to it like a moth. An eight-legged semi-cannibalistic half-monster moth with glorious silver hair that rivaled the moon with its luminescence. 

The candle didn't offer enough light to guide the way. It seemed to be shielded by someone's hand, so its flame could only be seen from one side. A signal, then? To what? The light flickered out, and Sephiroth drew nearer, until he could see that it had come from a small wooden boat with pirates on board. Several of them clutched a squirming bundle of fabric. Another human? So this was a kidnapping! But of whom? And why? Sephiroth observed with interest.

"He's still got some fight in him."

"Yeah, can't we knock him out or somethin'?" Reno asked, narrowly ducking as the squirming lump of fabric almost headbutted him.

"Cap'n wants him alive and undamaged," Elena insisted.

"Yeah well, Cap'n's late, ain't he?"

"Nobody's harming a hair on his head!" came a shout from one of the sailors, dressed like the rest, but for the bandanna covering half of his face. 

"Wait a minute," Reno frowned. "You're no Turk."

"Sure I am!" the masked pirate insisted. "I uh... I joined the crew in Junon last week."

"We weren't IN Junon last wee-" Reno was silenced by an elbow to the gut from Cissnei.

"The new guy's right, we got our orders from Rufus. Relight the signal."

This time a response flickered in the distance, and from the darkness a pale ship appeared, ice blue in the moonlight.

"That's it," Elena gasped. "Start rowing!"

The small, crowded boat rowed toward the ship, where crewmates waited to lift it onto the deck. Everyone was dressed the same - a rarity among pirates. It had been their captain's idea when he was handed the title by his father. Rufus wanted a stylish ship and a unified crew; men and women he could trust with his life, who would follow his every command without question. No one joined the crew without a rigorous test of mettle and a probing interview from Captain Rufus himself. In the early days anyone was welcome to apply for the job, but now crew were only recruited after careful consideration. Tonight's 'guest' was not a new recruit, but a full-fledged prisoner.

"You brought him," Rufus praised with a dangerous smirk. "Good work."

"Yeah, he's tougher than he looks," Reno grumbled. "I'm gonna have a black eye tomorrow."

"No you're not," Elena snapped. "He barely landed a hit. No trouble at all, Cap'n."

"I had faith in you." Rufus patted Elena's head as he approached, bringing a blush to her cheeks. He stood before the bundled prisoner and rubbed his chin, savoring the sight. "I've been insulted for the last time by this imposter. Remove the blankets."

The coverings were lifted to reveal Captain Lazard of the rival pirate ship, Dreams and Honor. His trim body was bound with rope, his hands tied behind him, and his mouth gagged. He gave his head a defiant toss to throw back his bangs. The moon illuminated the quiet yet inextinguishable fire in his grey-blue eyes. He fixed his glare on his younger brother, needing no words to convey his thoughts.

"Hello, Lazard," Rufus greeted him, his tone anything but friendly. "Are you surprised my crew were able to infiltrate your ship with such ease? It was nothing, really, once we stole the plans from the shipbuilder's library. Oh, don't be angry with him. He had no idea of our nefarious plot. Innocent as a baby seal, Leviathan rest his soul."

"Captain, isn't that poor taste?" one of the crew asked, holstering twin guns on either side of her hips. "After we did the poor guy in..."

"Reeve's death was unavoidable," Rufus insisted.

They'd rehearsed their story a thousand times since escaping the hurricane and realizing no one had dragged the unfortunate shipbuilder aboard. Captain Shinra paid good money for Reeve's skillfulness and loyalty. He would not be pleased to know the mad genius had met a watery grave in the middle of a petty argument between Shinra's own two sons. That's why Rufus intended to blame the entire thing on Lazard. Rufus was their father's favorite, and first in line to inherit the Shinra pirate band. Without any witnesses to tell another story, their father would surely believe Rufus, no matter how one-sided and obviously false his account was. The only problem was, there were witnesses - the entire crew of the Dreams and Honor.

In order to seal the story, the Turks had snuck upon and then sabotaged the ship so that it would sink before reaching land. As a special gift to himself, Rufus requested that his brother be brought to the Guard Hound for a murder more fitting a ship's captain.

"Won't sleep easy tonight," Rude admitted, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "If Reeve's ghost comes for revenge..."

"If you're so afraid of ghosts, perhaps you should take first watch in the captain's quarters," Rufus suggested, prompting a round of snickering and elbows among the crew. Under the captain's poorly disguised invitation and his crewmates' cajoling, Rude's unease shifted, and he straightened his collar again, this time with a shy curve in his lips. Lazard rolled his eyes, even more disgusted by his capture.

"I've waited years for this," Rufus gloated, returning his attention to Lazard. "Father promised his empire to me the day you left. When you returned, the old man had a change of heart. He told me that you and I should split the fleet and share in the wealth together. I've spent nights awake, planning the perfect revenge. Indeed, every word I would say when this moment finally came! That's why-"

"Ow! You fucker!" Reno jerked away from Lazard as the blond's foot stepped over his, then slammed into him, fists flying. "Watch yer feet, ya bastard!"

Reno's body was light and wiry, but his punch packed fire, and the force of it sent Lazard's bound body over the railing of the deck, toward the inky sea below.

"Reno, no-!!" Elena gasped, too late to prevent the inevitable.

The Turks lined up and leaned over the railing to watch the splash, the froth of Lazard's struggle, and finally, the ever dwindling bubbles as his body sank lower and lower into the water. 

"Someone go after him!" the masked pirate practically screamed. He made to climb over, but was quickly tugged back and subdued.

"Are you crazy?" Cissnei demanded, dragging him away from the scene of the crime. "This is sea serpent territory! He's probably been eaten already!"

"Cap'n just said he waited his whole life for this moment!" someone piped up. "It's Reno's fault; send him!"

Behind the row of Turks, Rufus stood solid as a block of outraged ice. He didn't tremble or sputter. His dignity was too great. But his eyes were a little too wide around the irises, and if anyone wandered close enough, they might hear a tiny creaking sound in his throat. His next move would surely be to either cry like a child or condemn half his own crew to follow Lazard into death.

Before he had the chance to decide, his first mate, Tseng, placed a hand on his shoulder and stretched the other out to Reno, who was in the process of being manhandled over the rails.

"Excellent work Reno, reading our captain's unspoken will so astutely."

"Ass- _what?"_ Reno gasped. The iron grip of his comrades turned attempted killers loosened and he scrambled back onto the deck.

"Unveiling Lazard's treachery is too grand for such an intimate audience," Tseng nodded. "Rufus will deliver his speech upon our return home. Keeping Lazard alive a moment longer was unnecessary, and you committed him to his fate with all haste. You deserve congratulations."

"Uh... thanks?" Reno stammered, casting an uneasy glance among his crewmates. Nobody looked convinced, least of all Rufus, whose face had turned slightly pink with bottled rage. "W-well uh... better get back to port as soon as possible, right cap'n?"

"I-" Rufus sputtered. "I-"

"Aye aye indeed, sir!" Elena chirped enthusiastically. "Back to your positions, men!"

The ship rocked into motion. Tseng led the still stammering Rufus to his quarters. Reno scrambled to the crow's nest before he could be dragged along to a private demise even worse than whatever Lazard faced in the sea below.

...and far, far beneath the surface of the water, Lazard's limp body was seized. Unconscious, he didn't see the face of his rescuer. He didn't know the means by which he was carried, or the streams they traveled upon. The water grew cool, then frigid, and then there was no water at all; only sand and salt-roughened stone beneath him. He woke long enough to cough up seawater, then slipped into darkness again. 

His uneasy sleep must have lasted an entire day, for when his eyes finally opened, the moon was rising, a little thinner than it was when he'd seen it last, but no less bright. The sand was wet and coarse against his skin, and a rock dug into his shoulder painfully. The air was freezing, and his tattered clothing offered him no warmth. He shivered and rolled onto his side, then pushed himself up to survey the beach he'd washed upon.

He was in a small cove. The pale sand was littered with stone slabs and crumbling pillars. The remains of a road led from the ruins to an ancient overgrown forest. Whatever civilization built this place was long gone. But what was this place, and how had Lazard come to be here?

"It's an old mermaid shrine."

Lazard gasped and darted his eyes over the beach once more. He was alone here - wasn't he? Unless one of the statues had spoken through their chipped marble faces. Lazard caught something moving, and he rested his gaze on one of the more unusual statues; a grotesque yet beautiful figure, half man and half sea creature, draped artistically over the debris. Cold wind stirred the statue's silver hair, and it lifted a hand to brush the strands back. The moon shone on his slender throat and well-defined muscles. The statue's hand lowered gracefully, and gave those muscles a provocative stroke before resting over its lower half, the black mantle of a massive octopus.

Lazard's reaction should have been horror. Complete and absolute horror, possibly combined with screaming and running in the opposite direction. He knew that. He did. But he didn't feel that way. Why should he? Clearly he was dead. He'd drowned in the sea at the hands of his idiot brother's lapdog. How else did one explain this unfamiliar beach? It must be the afterlife, and this strange creature was either the devil to punish him for his crimes in life... or the angel to reward him.

Hoping for the latter, Lazard approached the handsome monster and asked, "Excuse me?"

"Men worshiped them here thousands of years ago," came the answer with a hint of a smile. "Until their jealousy consumed them and mortal men tried to enslave and destroy the mermaids who once protected them. That was when Jenova appeared."

Though he tried to be polite, Lazard couldn't help staring at the multiple appendages. Some wrapped around a boulder embedded in the sand, others lazily slapped at the tide as it washed over them. One replaced his right arm, and was adorned with a black glassy orb at its base. A row of spines protruded from it, suggesting the creature before him was a capable predator when it wanted to be. Lazard admired strength, and his companion seemed to enjoy being admired as he drew a long, deep breath.

"I'm not familiar with this story," Lazard confessed.

"It's a story only told among the creatures of the sea. It tells of the greed of mankind and the fall of... oh, you're trembling. Are you cold?"

"Forgive me," Lazard apologized, attempting to tighten his shredded waistcoat. "Humans are susceptible to the elements. But please don't mind me. I'm very interested in your... story."

"In my story, hm?" The creature's smile deepened. "Then why don't I warm your body with mine before I continue?"

"I must ask you something first," Lazard ventured. "Did you arrange yourself for comfort or visual effect?" 

"That depends. Do you like what you see?"

"Increasingly."

"Two hours."

"What?"

"I spent two hours deciding on the perfect pose before you woke up."

Lazard stifled a chuckle. So this creature was not only powerful, but vain. It was normally what he'd consider a negative trait, but for some reason Lazard found it to be endearing. Well, why not? Nothing else was normal about this night. 

"My name is Lazard. And you're...?"

"Sephiroth."

Chaos had warned Sephiroth never to play with his food... but he wasn't as hungry as he'd thought. Indeed, he'd spent an entire day simply admiring the refined features of the man now standing before him. It was safe to say Lazard was no longer on the menu. Sephiroth extended his tentacles and drew Lazard's lean body against his own. Lazard's eyes (and hands) roamed Sephiroth's physique with undisguised fascination. Sephiroth swelled with... pride.

"So Lazard, tell me about yourself," he hummed. "You're a sailor, a captain, judging by what's left of your clothing?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes," Lazard replied, distracted by the curious tentacle wrapping itself around his ankle. "But I'm sure my men will be fine without me. They're probably not worried at all."

At that very moment, hundreds, perhaps thousands of miles away, a ship launched its final distress flare as it sank faster and faster into the water. Its crew spilled into lifeboats, even swam, preferring to take their chances with sharks than to hope the Dreams and Honor would right itself. Only the first mates, Angeal and Genesis refused to leave, determined to find their missing captain before the ship could be swallowed up by the unforgiving sea...


	4. The Ship is Going Down! No But Like a Different One!

The Dreams and Honor was going down. 

In the captain's quarters, first mate Genesis threw a small bejeweled chest to the floor with a curse. He'd turned the room inside out and there was no sign of his captain. His sea-blue orbs flashed with an inner fire as he called out to his handsome and muscular partner Angeal.

"Anything?"

"Nothing!" Angeal yelled back from the cargo hold below. "Keep searching! He must be here!"

"What, hiding in a trinket box?" Genesis snapped under his breath. He'd just tried that, anyway. "Angeal, he's not here!"

"The captain wouldn't leave us! He'd search for every man aboard until Leviathan took this ship!"

"Leviathan _has_ taken it, and he'll take us, too! Let us flee this accursed wreck!"

"Not without the captain!"

There was no use standing in Lazard's elegant bedroom any longer, with its deep navy velvet curtains and its majestic teak furniture that had been plundered from a ship belonging to a king. Teak was a good, sturdy wood to use for furniture that could potentially be exposed to the elements, but given the choice, Genesis would have preferred mahogany. Teak? Against these carpets? What kind of barbarian- why was he taking stock of the decor at a time like this?! In a matter of minutes, it would all be on the ocean floor, and it wouldn't matter how many adjectives Genesis could come up with to describe it. The only fitting words for the lot of it would be "lost wet junk". 

Genesis returned to the deck. They'd checked the entire ship from the top down. Captain Lazard was nowhere to be found. He'd been missing since before the leak in the hull was discovered. Whoever had sabotaged their ship was responsible for his disappearance, that much was clear. 

Clear to Genesis, at least. Angeal, despite his reputation as the level-headed one of the duo, had a tendency to be stubborn when confronted with an obstacle he couldn't fight with his fists and honor. Genesis was the true thinker between them, even if he did let his passions overtake reason. They complimented each other beautifully, and it made them the perfect pair, unmatched by any other on the high seas - and Genesis planned to keep it that way, by not letting either of them be sucked into the briny deep with their ship!

Genesis dropped into the cargo hold and kicked his way through rising water and floating gunpowder kegs. He found Angeal punching his way into a wooden crate.

"He's not in there," Genesis insisted.

"They could've stashed him," Angeal argued, taking another swing with bare, bloody knuckles. His muscles rippled with power, and the wood splintered under his punch. If Lazard had been in the crate, Angeal's fist would have squashed his head like a pumpkin. Neither captain nor gourds were in the crate however; dozens of purple apples spilled out into the water. 

"Are you satisfied?" Genesis inquired with folded arms and tilted hip. 

Angeal scowled and raised a finger to begin one of his famous lectures, but in that instant the ship gave a deep, deafening groan, like the final sigh of a sea monster at the end of its life. 

"She's coming apart," Angeal gasped.

"Ships do that when they're sinking." If Genesis was going to die, he would die with the last word. 

Angeal wouldn't let him have it. He threw an arm around Genesis' middle and ran toward the ladder.

"If we can get above, we might have a chance to dive for it-"

Their way was suddenly blocked when the mast, as thick as three trees tied together, splintered like the plywood Angeal had just punched. The pair jumped backward, shielding their faces and each other from wooden shards that flew outward. The top of the mast went in one direction. The bottom went another. Water roared into the hold from all sides, and the Dreams and Honor split in two.

Angeal grabbed Genesis by the belt as the planks beneath their feet pushed up and out. They couldn't see in the darkness, couldn't plan their escape or say their final goodbyes, but least they could hold onto each other and not face the end alone. The end, however, didn't come. Just as the room was about to collapse and crush them to death, an opening split into the side of the ship, and Angeal and Genesis were pulled through it with the last of their air. They were hurled to the surface of the water, completely undamaged by their ordeal. It was as if some divine being had different plans for them - highly suspect plans, if anyone were to ask Genesis.

Fearing a pull from the sinking ship, the crew had rowed their lifeboats far away, and none were in sight. Still clutching Genesis, Angeal swam to a piece of floating debris and threw him over it.

"I can swim, you know," Genesis choked though the seawater.

"But can you hold on?" Angeal countered, finding half a smile for his partner. "Grab that sheet and tie yourself down."

"I told you I don't like rope play."

"Save some of that salt for the sea, Gen."

"I want to get it all out of my system before I meet the Goddess."

Angeal patted Genesis' shoulder and used the remaining length of rope to tie himself to the timber.

"We'll live to see tomorrow. I think the men rowed west. Maybe they'll hear our voices if we shout."

No one answered their calls, and not a single boat, or even a trail of bubbles could be seen for miles. Genesis managed to catch a piece of wood and they took turns using it to paddle their makeshift raft. Both were skilled navigators, but without a map and reliable devices, there was no telling exactly when or where they might find land. Night gave way into morning, which turned into day, then dwindled back into night. Lack of food and sleep began to wear the sailors down.

"It would have been better to drown," Angeal sighed.

"Can't... keep my eyes open," Genesis mumbled.

"Then rest a while. I'll keep... watch..."

Despite his valiant promise, Angeal's eyes slid shut and he slumped forward. 

The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back with a warm sun overhead. Angeal sat up with a start and looked around to see the ocean ahead of him and soft sand beneath him. Over the comforting roar of the waves he heard the shriek of parrots and the rustle of palm trees. The scent of citrus fruit and coconuts wafted on the air. An island! He was saved! But Genesis-

"Rise and shine, soldier."

Angeal spun around so quickly he lost his balance and flopped onto his stomach. Genesis laughed softly and leaned down to help him to his feet.

"How did we get here?" Angeal asked, "and- what are you wearing?"

Genesis placed his hands on his hips to frame the scrap of fabric covering them. 

"It's beach-appropriate fashion, and I'll thank you to stop staring like you've never seen this much skin before."

"I've seen a bathing suit. That's much too small to be a bathing suit."

"Oh, get with the times, Angeal. Besides, there's no one here to see me but you."

"You mean-?"

Genesis nodded.

"Completely deserted."

"Then were did you find a brand new pair of bright red shorts?"

"You know, it's the strangest thing," Genesis explained with a tap of his index finger to his chin. "A chest of clothing washed ashore just a few yards from us, containing nothing but swimming trunks in exactly our sizes and favorite colors."

"I don't believe that," Angeal deadpanned.

"Well, it _happened,"_ Genesis insisted.

"A box of revealing underwear just happens to be on the exact same tropical beach we washed up on after a shipwreck in the middle of the ocean several weeks' sail away from land?"

"There was also a hunting knife and a tinderbox, if that eases your mind."

"It doesn't."

"Well, it should," Genesis snapped. "Unless you plan to spend the rest of our impromptu vacation eating raw meat and fruit salad."

"Vacation? Gen, we're _castaways!"_

"I'm well aware."

"It could be years before someone finds us! We don't even know where we are!"

"All the more reason to be grateful to have the means to feed and clothe ourselves."

Angeal sighed in defeat. Genesis had a point. Their clothes were tattered from surviving the shipwreck, and their stomachs were empty. They could debate the plausibility of their situation or they could work with what they had to get off this island and reunite with their crew. 

"Well, I can't let you take over as the voice of reason," Angeal quipped. "Where's this magical chest of yours?"

"I knew you'd see things my way," Genesis smiled.

After a change of clothing and a review of their limited possessions, the two pirates turned castaways explored their surroundings. It was a standard desert island, complete with an inactive volcano and a freshwater lake, waterfall included. Small deer roamed the tropical forest, but there were miraculously no predators.

"This place doesn't feel real," Angeal muttered as they sat on the beach, sliced coconuts in hand, watching the sun set over the water.

"I was just thinking the same," Genesis agreed with a smile. He stretched his arms above his head, and the fading red sunlight reflected off his lean, chiseled abs. Clearly he and Angeal were on different pages. 

"It's too perfect."

"Right? I feel like any moment music will start to play and we'll break into song."

"Don't. Sing."

"Relax, An, I harbor no secret passion for musical theatre. Unless you want to give it a shot...?"

"Genesis-"

"I happened to find a guitar and some maracas lying beside a tree this morning."

"You did not."

"No, but I could have. You could show a little more enthusiasm for the hobbies we'll have to adopt in our new home."

"This isn't home. Home is Midgar."

"Midgar is freezing and wet and full of disease and rotten food. Furthermore, as pirates, we're wanted men in Midgar. Any morning we could wake in prison to find the king's soldiers standing above us, swords at the ready, to march us down to the hangman's noose."

"The ship, then."

"The ship is at the bottom of the sea. Do you propose we join the mermaids next? Because they will definitely want to sing."

"Any ship is fine! We're getting off this island as soon as we can."

Angeal stood up and dusted the sand off his butt. He had the distinct impression that as he did, time moved differently, the grains of sand fell to the ground in slow motion. Was that... saxophone music he heard in the distance? Being a castaway was getting to him. He held a hand out to Genesis, who for some reason was slack-jawed and dreamy-eyed.

"Help me gather sticks. We're going to build an SOS sign on the beach, in case an airship flies over."

"That's not going to work."

"Why not?"

"Airships won't be invented for hundreds of years."

"What? Oh."

Angeal sank back down onto the sand, defeated.

"So we're trapped here forever?"

"Possibly."

"With an endless supply of food and revealing underwea-" Genesis shot him a look and Angeal amended, "beach appropriate fashion?"

"Blessedly appropriate."

"So we won't starve to death, but we'll have tan lines for the rest of our lives." 

Angeal swung his face away from Genesis and covered it with the back of his arm. It seemed like the right thing to do in this situation. If Genesis was going to be the calm one, Angeal might as well assume his partner's overdramatic personality. That made sense, right? He was sure it did... n't, but who was he to question fate's uncanny inability to keep his and Genesis' personalities straight?

With an inexplicably hoarse (yet somehow still incredibly sexy) voice,he demanded, "But what are we supposed to do all day? How will we save ourselves from madness when there's no one else around for hundreds of miles?!"

Genesis looked down in thought, or at least he pretended to think about it before he slipped close to Angeal and draped himself over those big, rippling muscles. 

"Oh... we could try to repopulate the island."

"I'm pretty sure you need a man and a woman to do that, Genesis."

"I'm not so convinced. I've been reading some fascinating and very scientific articles-"

"Plundered Booty: The Haunting Tale of First Mate Omega's Romance with a 14th Century Chevalier's Ghost is not a scientific article, it's smut."

"I never claimed First Mate Omega was a real person, only that the author raised very interesting points. Some of the things he predicted have even come true."

"Regardless, two men cannot make babies."

"We'll never know if we don't try," Genesis smirked.

"Oh, very well."

Angeal surrendered himself to his fate and kissed Genesis. He supposed his resistance to living on a possibly enchanted island paradise had been for show anyway. Who would choose to live the rugged yet uncomfortable life of an outlaw on the high seas when they were staring raw perfection in the face? The island wasn't half bad, either.

As they came apart for air, Angeal said, "Just one thing. If your silly notions of reproduction come true, you're carrying it. And we're naming our firstborn after our dear departed captain, may his soul find peace."

"I wouldn't dream of any other name," Genesis promised. They'd discuss who 'carried' later. It would certainly not be him! "What, did you think I would name the baby after Kunsel?"

"I'm sure he's doing fine, wherever he is. He's probably not worried at-" Angeal paused in thought. "Do you have a feeling of déjà vu?"

"No, why?"

"I... don't know. Now, about populating the island..."

As the sun set over the shipwrecked lovebirds on their island of fantasy, far away it rose over a glistening white ship, where a masked pirate in an ill-fitting stolen uniform nervously pondered his fate...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, the title told you what you were in for. Well, this was all I had written of Bad Pirate Fic. I don't know if I'll ever finish it - but there is an outline. The next chapter tells the story of Kunsel, now a spy on board the Turks' ship.


End file.
